


Coldbridge Shorts

by starsong946



Series: Under The Two Moons [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Child Abandonment, Demons, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Magical Realism, Multi, Other, Succubi & Incubi, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-06-13 07:15:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15359136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsong946/pseuds/starsong946
Summary: Basically just where I'm shoving all the shorts that don't really follow the main plot or any of the other short stories I have planned out.





	1. Enter The Unusual Trio

**Author's Note:**

> Subscribe if you want to keep up with all this cool shit. Oh and tell me in the comments if you want to see something in specific.

Enter The Unusual Trio

The woods that surround Coldbridge are the kind of woods that could have come straight out of a fairytale. Not necessarily a picturesque scene of green foliage where all the animals come out to play in perfect harmony. No, these woods live in a way that can’t be captured in a single photo; the woods breathe and with every breath the wet heavy feeling of life in your lungs. Inhaling the damp morning scent of rich soil and the thick feel of life against your teeth and exhaling until your lungs burn.

And many things dwelled in this forest, for the most part the majority of them good (or at least not actively chaotic), and one of the dwellers of this forest was cabin. Perhaps not intelligent life although it does hold a great deal of character, if it wasn’t for the ground on which it was built than that cabin would be no different from any other cabin in any other part of the world.

No one in town could remember who built it but for the longest time it was considered taboo to visit it. Not haunted, just considered unpleasant to be associated with. It’s very bare bones with a singular room with a small walled off corner for the bare necessities of a bathroom, a old fridge and countertop and a few old shelves. The only thing about the structure that could be considered appealing was the large fireplace. As of recently the cabin had gotten a much homier look to it, a squishy olive green couch dragged in, a beaten up coffee table with several stacked novels on it, coffee mugs that now adorned the shelves, and a large piece of string tied across the mantle that had printed out pictures attached to it with clothes pins. All in all the cabin was a rather peaceful and lulling place to be.

A large smack breaks the silence as the heavy wooden door slams open with unusual force. A young man strode in purposely as he swore, “I can’t believe those assholes!” he spit out as he began rummaging through the coffee mugs, his fangs gleamed faintly in the dirty light that spilled in through the singular window as they grew.

Outside in the section of the grass that was worn down enough to serve as a drive way another teenager leaned up against a old cherry red pickup, their pink hair artfully ruffled to extenuate the dark magenta horns that peaked out of their head and the pale pearl pink hue to their skin. They reached up to scratch lightly at their neck, quite used to the others more dramatic actions by now.

A voice to drew her attention to the young man stepping out of the woods, “What’s got Toto all pissed off,” he asked as he approached the other, “Somebody steal his chew toy?” he asked with a smug smirk.

Oliver Romano, the only 648 year old to drink frozen margaritas and watch HGTV. Also the heir to the Romano Vampire Clan, the most influential vampire clan in all of North America. Hence the rusty colored smear on the edge of his mouth.

The two greeted friendly, clapping hands together while the pink haired individual explained, “There was some big pack thing and he was the only one not invited, by the way you have something on your-“ 

They were cut off by a large shout of “OLLIE” before a large black dog roughly the size of a motorcycle bounded out of the cabin and pounced off the porch. Oliver hardly had the time to choke out a huff before he was taken down by the moving mass of fur that was quickly melting away to revealing a the dark skinned young man from before, who proceeded to tuck his head under Oliver’s and make a low whining sound.

Used to his friend’s aversion to clothes, Oliver was hardly shaken by this and just tipped his head back slightly to allow the werewolf better access to him for comfort, “Come on buddy, I need to get up,” he said plactatingly, trying to draw his friend away unsuccessfully. At the low whine he got in response he shifted slightly to get more comfortable, knowing he would be there until he was let up.

Dante Anderson, 195 of pure muscle, teeth, and fangs who also braids flowers into crowns, only eats cruelty free local food, and read books thicker than his biceps. Also known as the disgraced second oldest to the Anderson Werewolf pack, enemies to the Romano Vampire Clan. 

And lastly Karter Gadner, the onlooker of the current situation. A cambion, the unholy offspring of a succubus/incubus demon and a human, they are widely distained by the town. Rather remarkable in looks they proudly wear their pink skin and horns and is more than willing to deal back any ugliness thrown at them tenfold. And yet Karter is massive softy for their two best friend. And owls. Karter really likes owls.

“Dante get your furry ass up and into some clothes. Please. There are something’s I do not need to know about you and the color of your scrotum is one of them,” Karter remarked exasperatedly as they rubbed at their eyes. 

Dante snuffled lowly once more into Olivers neck before removing himself from the impressive tangle of limbs he had wound them into on the ground. Karter tossed him a ragged woolen blanket from the back of the pickup truck which he promptly wrapped around his waist. Meanwhile Oliver had picked himself up off the ground and was valiantly trying to dust the dirt of his dark red shirt. 

“I swear I don’t even know why I bother wearing nice clothes when I’m around the two of you,” he said exasperatedly, eyebrows high as he took in their appearances with a judging look. “I mean, come on Karter. Grey sweatpants outside of your house? Have you given up on life?” he said, throwing up his hands.  
Karter paused from where they were rummaging around in the flatbed of the pickup. They turned to look Karter in the eye before squinting slightly, “Yes,” they said decisively, only the smallest quirk to their lips betraying their humor. They humphed in triumph as they tugged out a pair of basketball shorts covered in dirt and spray paint. They tossed them to Dante who promptly pulled them on before dropping the blanket.

Oliver rolled his eyes and turned to Dante, “So I hear the packs being a bitch again?” he asked, his words tinged with anger and bitterness.  
Dante shuffled his feet as he picked at a loose thread in the shorts, procrastinating reply. He sighed heavily when no one changed the subject, “Yeah there’s a huge pack summit or something. It’s held each year to keep the peace among packs on the continent. The host pack, which is us this year, is supposed to have every member show up as a gesture of hospitality,” swallowed and choked out a wet half laugh before continuing, “But I guess my mom didn’t think I’d be good reflection on the pack or something. So she didn’t tell me when it was. So I showed up at home out of the blue to grab a couple of books for Ms. Mesbah and walked into the middle of it. Mom didn’t want the other packs to think she was hording wolves as a power play or something so-“ at this he broke off. 

Oliver and Karter looked on helplessly as tears streamed from his face freely, “S-she said I was barely pack, th-that I was only kept around because they didn’t want a dangerous lone wolf around,” his chest racked with sobs as he gasped faintly for air around the words. 

Neither of the them said anything as they both tucked themselves under one of Dante’s arms and embraced him tightly as he sobbed. For several moments neither of them said anything as they let their friend sob into their shoulders. Lightly under his breath Oliver began to sing “…În pădurea cu alone Aveau casă doi pitici. Vine pupăza şi spune: Vreau să stau şi eu aici…” And despite the fact that neither of them knew what he was singing it calmed Dante enough for him to pull away after a few minutes.

Sniffling he asked, “Thanks guys, what was that song?” as he rubbed at his still wet red eyes. 

Oliver smiled slightly with mirth, “It’s called In The Forest. It’s a children’s song from Romania. My cousins all sing it when they come to visit and drag me to hang out with them. It’s really silly but I thought it would cheer you up,” he explained bashfully, one hand rising to readjust the grey beanie that covered his lavender hair.

Dante let out another laugh, this one genuine, “Well thanks I guess. Um, can I stay with one of you for a few days? Just until things at home cool down enough for me to go home…” 

For a moment no one spoke, Dante’s attempt to lighten the air falling flat. After a moment the silence was broken by a loud stream of curses let loose. Dante and Oliver turned to the normally reserved Karter in shock.

They scrunched their nose angrily at the astounded looks on their faces, “Don’t look so shocked. And honestly. Fuck. Them. You don’t need to go back to them. You keep going back to them and they know it and besides your Dad they treat you like shit. So,” they threw out their arms, “Fuck. Them.”

Oliver, who had been nodding along for most of their rant, spoke up, “Exactly! You don’t need them. We’re your pack,” he said fervently. 

Dante beamed at them, tears still drying on his cheeks, “That’s sweet but. I need a pack. Lone wolves go mad. So…” he took a deep breath, “I’m stuck with them.”

“No. No more of this,” spat Karter, “You don’t deserve this. This is a town full of magical beings from all over the world, hell there’s a fucking god who goes to the same coffee shop as me. There has to be some way to break your tie with your pack and create one among us,” they stepped forward to reach up and grip his shoulders tightly. “We will be your pack. And if you want we can build it or it can just be us. And this stupid cabin will be our pack home. But I don’t care because you are not going back to those…mutts,” they spat angrily. 

Dante looked at them in shock before pulling them into a crushing warm hug. He locked eyes with Oliver over their shoulder and felt his eyes tear up in gratitude at the expression of affection on the normally stoic vampires face. 

The next day the Anderson pack and the representatives from every major influential pack in North America were woken up by the blasting sounds of piercing screamo that vibrated across the lawn and when they all rushed outside to find the source they were greeted to a trashed front yard and a spray painted insignia stenciled on the perfectly manicure lawn of a silver full moon boasting pink devil horns and red fangs.


	2. Meddling in Inhuman Affairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I got a question about the story Ms. Cardenas is telling in Chapter 2 of Under The Two Moons. So. Enjoy the frogs. Will I ever actually update the story? Yes. Maybe.

Joshua McLyner knew his town was more special than meets the eye from a young age. It’s basically the towns worst kept secret, especially considering half of the people you meet on the street have horns, wings, claws, fangs, tails, tusks, paws, extra limbs, extra eyes, and skin colors in every shade of the rainbow. His first kiss was with a girl who had pale gray skin and long talons for fingernails and the teenager who babysat him was a woman with large tawny wings. So needless to say Joshua wasn’t unused to the strange things in his life.

Despite this he never felt like an outcast for being human, sure sometimes it was odd feeling like you weren’t special but he always saw his humanity as a freedom rather than a restrictor. High school was difficult enough; imagine having to through full moons or molting on top of puberty. 

On a cold winters day Joshua found himself wandering the trails in the woods by himself. In small towns people tended to be over exuberant when it came to holidays and he had endured enough of tinsel, lights, and cheesy blow ups. 

The woods of Coldbridge were known for being a bit dangerous, but no more than any other woods. But instead of dangerous hermits they had a reclusive witch who adopted every stray cat in town and instead of bears they had something called a Boitata which is a Brazilian fire snake that hid in the creek and protected the woods from fire.  
Nevertheless he wasn’t terribly worried when he decided to walk through the main trail that led to the clearing where some of the inhumans of the town held a monthly flea market of sorts. Luckily the path was fairly straight forward and he made it to the market before noon. 

The clearing where the flea market was held was a rather unique feature of the forest in that it laid in a small valley about twelve feet below the rest of the forest, the walls made of dirt and tree roots that protected everyone from the rest of the forest. The usual picturesque look of the valley was shattered by the tan canvas awnings and tents set up, roughly twenty in all. 

Joshua had been a few times in the past but it never failed to amaze him how amazing it all looked together. Tables piled high with enchanted bits and bobs, earrings that could translate foreign languages, knotted shoe laces to make you run a bit faster, nail polish that changed colors with the weather. There was a tent that hosted one of the towns tattoo artists who gave small enchanted pieces at a discount, a tent stacked to the roof with books on every subject imaginable, and another emitting a strong herbal tea scent where (if the sign was to be believed) you could get a tea for everything possible including luck, love, and happiness.

It took several minutes for him to collect himself enough to begin walking around the market. He tried to keep to himself as much as possible and perused through each table as he went. He was walking past an antique table when a small ruckus between two teenagers caused him to go careening into the table, sending bobbles flying.

Joshua laid there, stunned, for several moments before he was helped to his feet by an older woman with a large afro tucked as well as it could be behind a 70’s style rainbow bandanna. 

“-swear it’s like with every generation they get rowdier,” she was saying. She noticed the dazed look on his face and her face twisted a bit in concern, “Are you alright dearie, you didn’t hit your head did you?”

Joshua shook his head roughly, shaking of the fuzz in his head, “Um no, no I’m okay ma’am,” he mumbled.

She laughed widely, attracting the attention of a few passerby’s, “No need to call me ma’am. But do you think you could help me pick up some of this stuff? These joints aren’t what they used to be.”

Joshua nodded and got to work silently, placing things on the table as orderly as he could while the woman ranted about the kids that had knocked him over, “-It’s not like it’s the moon they can blame it on, it’s barely waxing. Oh! Are we done already?” she looked over the table with an approving look on her face. “I think it actually looks better than before, well thank you young man,” she said kindly.

Joshua shifted, uncomfortable with praise, “You’re welcome,” he responded shyly.

The woman tilted her head and studied him for a moment, her lips pursing a bit, before she broke into a wide smile. “Well enjoy the market, if you ever need any antiques my store is just off of Main Street.”

Joshua nodded quickly and moved away to continue browsing through the market, not noticing the lingering stares from the woman he had just helped.

As the evening progressed people began to pack up their wares and tables and all began to head for the trail that led out of the forest. A few people stuck around to pick up any litter (pissing off the forest witch never goes well) but before long Joshua found himself being ushered out of the now empty clearing by a few of the volunteers who kept the market running.

As he made his way home he reached into his pocket to fish out his phone to check for messages and was startled when his hand bumped into something that was clearly not his phone. He pulled out the object and recognized it from the antique woman’s table. A small wooden bobble of a woman with the head of a frog. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time but he didn’t remember seeing it when they were fixing up the display. 

Had it fallen into his pocket when he fell into the table? Either way he would return to the woman’s shop the next day. When he arrived home he ignored the attempt at ruffling his hair by his older sister and made his way upstairs to his room where he set the figurine on his nightstand, hardly paying any mind to it.

The next morning he was awaken not by the yells of his mother from downstairs but rather by the sudden cacophony of croaking noise emitting from outside of his windows. He fell out of bed, startled, and fumbled his way to the window where he was shocked by what lay outside.

Covering the roof, gutters, and most of his front yard where mass amounts of frogs and toads almost piled up on top of each other. Large and small, dark green, moss green, brown, and a few unrecognizable ones. He was backing up in horror, determined to go back to sleep until he could wake himself up out of this nightmare when he heard a scream downstairs.

He ran downstairs to see that his mother had apparently woken to find the same sight he had. His mind suddenly flashed to the totem on his nightstand and he bolted up stairs, ignoring the frantic calls of his mother. He snatched the wooden figure off his nightstand, ignoring the smug look that looked carved on its face as he slid on his sneakers and sprinted downstairs.

He pushed past his mother, throwing a hasty apology and promises to fix everything, and knew that he owed her a proper explanation later. 

He snagged the bike leaning against the side of the house and mounted it quickly, ignoring the masses of frogs that seemed to have noticed his presence and were now following him. As he pedaled furiously down the street he noted a few of the inhuman occupants of the town sticking their heads out to greet him, but only the ones that seemed to have enhanced senses. Joshua filed that away as a question to ask later as he turned onto Main Street.

He made eye contact with Ms. Cardenas, the friendly older woman who owned the bookstore, and pictured what must be going through her head at the sight of him zipping down the street being followed by an avalanche of frogs.

He finally found himself in front of the antique store and barley managed to leap off of the bike without falling and make it inside before the tidal wave of frogs surrounded the store.

Notified by the belling signifying entrance the older woman, who he was now realizing he hadn’t gotten the name of, made her way from behind the counter.  
“Well. I’ve got to say, this is not what I was expecting to be greeted with when I opened this morning,” she said with a throaty laugh as she took in his flustered appearance, pajamas and all. 

He pulled the totem out of his pocket and practically tripped over himself thrusting it at the woman, “This- thing fell into my pocket yesterday and now the frogs won’t leave me alone. Can you fix it?” he asked pathetically. 

The woman let out a few tuts as she examined the totem, “Not your fault dearie, this thing has a mind of its own and it’s very mischievous. Meet Heqet Egyptian frog and fertility goddess. I suppose she must have bonded to you and gone a bit over board. I don’t suppose you’ve had any issues with beings who have good senses of smell?” at seeing the dumbfounded look on his face she continued, “Now that it’s back in my hands the effects should be mostly nullified. You’ll be a bit more attractive to things that use their noses more and you might be followed by a couple of your new friends but all that should wear off in time.”

She waved her hand to direct his attention towards the front window where the frogs were indeed retreating, seemingly a bit confused as to how they all got into the middle of the town.

“So-so is that it?” Joshua asked hesitantly. 

At her nod he finally let himself relax. He may have grown up in Coldbridge surrounded by all those oddities but he most certainly wasn’t cut out to be a part of it. Maybe next week he’d stay away from the flea market in the woods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :)


	3. The Unusual Trio: Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver introduces his friends to his family... it goes about well as expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like this you should check out my main story in Coldbridge called Under The Two Moons here on Ao3. Kudos and comments are always welcome.

The matriarch of the Romano clan, Odilia Romano, was by no definition a easily impressed woman. It was the reason her family had maintained its grip on their territory over the last few hundred years, despite the ever growing threat of migration of creature due to the humans. Even her own children found it hard to get a strong reaction of praise from their mother; a trait in herself that she had been swearing to work on for decades. So for any human, or god forbid- a were creature, to cause any sort of outward reaction from her would be astounding.

Now despite what many around town may think she was not willingly blind about her oldest sons choice in friends and activities. Five years ago Oliver had stormed into her study and before she could reprimand him for not knocking he stated that he no long wished to be the inheritor to the Romano clan and was willingly giving his title to Adrianne, his younger sister. It had shocked her, the first and last time he had managed to do so, but she relented after seeing the familiar glint of determination in his eyes. After all, she saw it every time she looked in the mirror. 

Not long after that she began to hear whispers around town, rumors concerning her son. He had been spotted consorting with not only Dante Anderson, a werewolf of all creatures, but Karter Gadner. The abomination. Oliver was physically older than them by only a few years, despite being older than some countries, and she knew what had happened. The two of them were the cause of Olivers rebellion. Over the next few years she'd find out about all sorts of petty crimes that, while they couldn't be tied to her son, screamed Oliver. But she had never met the two of them, and quite frankly she had no interest in it. 

Which led her to her current situation. Several weeks ago after a small bout of vandalism Oliver had announced over a family dinner that he planned on forming a pack bond with the abomination and the mutt. And he demanded- demanded, as if he was still the heir- that they be allowed into the family manor to use the library. 

So here she was, a vampire older than most museum exhibits, apprehensive (she would never admit to being nervous) over the guests who had just pulled into the driveway. She could tell it was them by the disgusting sound of the beat up old red truck Oliver insisted on riding in. She smoothed her hands down the front of her shirt and rolled her shoulders back before schooling her face into one of polite disinterest.

They came into the house like a whirlwind; Oliver first with his head turned to speak to someone behind him, face twisted in the brightest expression she had seen on him in years (her cold heart twisted at that). The dog behind him, a behemoth of a teenager like most teenage boys, wearing the clothing you would expect to see in a gym matched with a crown perched on his dark twisted hair made of large yellow flowers. Her eyes flickered over to the abomination, nose already forming into a sneer on instinct and the aura around the thing. It wore comfortable clothing, still as informal as the dog, pink hair only a few shades darker than the pastel color of its skin. 

The threes laughter died out as they all noticed their observer. Oliver took a step forward preemptively, mouth already opening in what she was sure was some form of snarky comment but she stopped him with the silent raise of one hand. 

"Oliver. It's... nice to meet your friends," she said, purposely pausing to indicate her distaste. 

Olivers eyes began to narrow in agitation but whatever comment he was about to say was cut off, "You must be Ollie's mom! It's nice to finally meet you. I'm Dante," he beamed as if he couldn't notice the tension in the room. The abomination behind him clearly wasn't having the same difficulties if the pinched look on its face was any indication.

Then the mutt had the audacity to bound forward to meet her at the foot of the stairs and stick out his hand. To touch her. She stared at his hand in disgust until he got the message, his smile fading a bit as he stepped backwards and pulled back his hand.

She glanced at him and Oliver before staring at the abomination, thinly veiled disgust on her face. "Kneel," that one word vibrated throughout the room. She was the ruler of the Romano clan, older than this town. She was a woman to be respected and they needed to know that they could steal her sons allegiance but they would never be equals. Oliver's face twisted in anger but he didn't speak up. He rarely could to her.

And yet neither of the two moved. After a few moments she spoke again, "I said, kneel."

And yet they did nothing. After a moment she felt her composure crack as the mutt turned to Oliver to ask where the library was. Ignoring her demands.

"Why are you not kneeling," she said flatly as the three of them began ascending the stairs and passed her, presumably to the family library.

The abomination looked over its shoulder and shot her a dark grin with a hint of fang, "Nah. I'm good." 

And the three left her standing there, wondering if she had underestimated the things that had ensnared her son.


End file.
